


Food for Thought

by ADashOfStarshine (ADashOfInsanity)



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 04:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2010867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADashOfInsanity/pseuds/ADashOfStarshine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When their army comes against the mind-power of the Prince of Daein, Ike wonders what kind of man this master tactician could be. What he doesn't expect is a child-like mage, and a hungry one at that.</p><p>A gift for kyogres.tumblr.com for Summer Nagamas 2014. Prompt: Ike vs Soren - AU where Soren is raised by Ashnard as the prince of Daein and fights on Daein’s side in the war</p><p>There is not a lot of graphic violence in this story but the warning is there for caution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Food for Thought

Ike had no qualms in admitting that this war had certainly become easier since a certain someone was tucked behind allied lines. That certain someone had been a figure of notoriety - a dark blot on a horizon lined with men in black armour. Elincia had known that Mad King Ashnard had a son but knew next to nothing about him. They all knew Daein had a ruthlessly brilliant tactician guiding their troops, who was equally as enigmatic as he was talented. At first they had taken his tactics with full force, to find the fortresses they moved to occupy had been booby-trapped with foul deterrents like magic hexes or swarms of rats, freed from their dungeon homes. On the battlefield, they fought valiantly against the opposing army’s unexpected placement of troops. Temples became new battlegrounds. When earnest clerics or priests went to go and pray, they found themselves abducted or worse, severely handicapping the Crimean forces. Mages were dressed like soldiers and some soldiers were disguised as common citizens. The simple act of a switch in clothing had confused their troops far more than common sense could anticipate. This tactician’s plans, though widely spread and relatively simple to perform, had a devastating effect on combat and morale. The Crimean forces scraped victories, fighting tooth and nail for more ground, but it soon became clear something had to be done about Daein’s chain of command. Mainly, they had to get rid of that tactician.

Their first clues about this man came from espionage on enemy camps. According to their thieves, higher ranking members of the enemy camps received scrolls attached to birds. These scrolls, magically sealed, contained orders written by the Prince of Daein himself. They had lost three thieves and two archers trying to obtain one of these scrolls and were forced to call that mission a failure. However it was revealed that the tactician and prince was one and the same person. Ike took no time in deciding that if anyone came across the man, he should be taken down. Titania suggested that capture instead of immediate silencing was wise. This was Daein’s brightest mind.  If they could get his thoughts from him, with whatever persuasion necessary, then they could learn exactly what was going on behind enemy lines.

However optimistic Titania could be, Ike had the distinct feeling she’d never believed her idea would actually work.  Yet as they had advanced across the bridge to Crimea, they came across an unexpected chance. They had been fighting their ways through layers of ballistae and cavalry when suddenly Titania shouted:

 “Get that mage! We want him alive!”

Their laguz allies were sent spiralling off the side of the bridge as if they had lost control of their wings. Ike didn’t know a great deal about magic. However even he could tell the power that swept through them was unlike anything they had so far encountered. Ranulf went flying. Anyone who had had the misfortune to fall in a hole, jumped back into it for fear of being blown all the way back to Nevassa.  Sand bags burst, ballistae were ripped apart, and bits of bridge wall crumbled into the ravine below.  Just as Ike scrambled to hold onto a fallen boulder, the wind suddenly died. He looked up to see Rhys was clinging onto Titania, who had somehow managed to keep herself atop her horse. He had a staff gripped tightly under his arm but its strange placement had done nothing to curb its effectiveness. The wind had stopped. The mage had fallen asleep. As the wind died, both sides seemed to take their bearings. They heard a yell from one of the men on the enemy ballistae.

“Quick! Protect the prince!”

Chaos ensued. It seemed most of the Daein troops didn’t know what their prince looked like or where he was supposed to be. This resulted in a lot of confused shouting and running about. The few who did seem to know however, were converging on the fallen mage.  Ike took no time in ordering a charge, repeating Titania’s idea to get that mage and capture him alive.  Now the Daein troops were so scattered, it was easy to plough through their midst. As Oscar, Kieran and Titania led the charge towards the enemy general, Janaff returned from his tumble over the bridge side. Ike waved to him and he flew over at once.

“There’s an enemy mage asleep over there, he’s the tactician-prince that’s been giving us so much grief. If we focus on the ballistae, do you think you can get him and carry him back?”

Janaff gave a loud screech, which Ike took as the hawk way of saying ‘yes’. He took flight again and soared over the thinning enemy lines. Ike spared him one last glance before ploughing his way through the disorientated ranks.

That was how the Crimean forces gained their hostage.  Titania supervised the containment of their captive as Ike helped with the clear up process and the setting up of camp. In fact it wasn’t until the day after the battle that he received his first nasty surprise from the Prince of Daein. Not that the prince could have intended any of his surprises, there was no way he could have any control over such things. However the fact remained that Ike hadn’t actually seen the master tactician before his first turn at guarding him. As soon as he had… Well, shouldn’t someone have told him he would be facing a _child_? The Prince of Daein looked no older than Mist or Rolf. He was small and skinny, dressed in black robes that looked far too big for him. His eyes were round and child-like despite their ferocious shade of blood-red. He looked a lot like that Goldoan prince they had met when stranded on that reef. They both had red marks on their foreheads, though this child’s was bigger. On the other hand, this prince was also a beorc.

Or so Ike had thought.

The prince had been utterly unresponsive to all their attempts at interrogating him. He glared silently at all that shouted at him, ignored those who tried mothering him, and gave snarky comments to those who appealed to any sense of empathy he may possess.  As the army’s General, Ike had been far too busy to attend to the prince himself, however when Titania had a specialist interrogator brought in from their Begnion allies, he couldn’t help but be curious about the strength of will this child seemed to possess. Despite the frequency of reports about him, he had seen the Prince of Daein only once so far. As the head of the army he thought it a good idea to attend this interrogation at least in part.  He had to go and visit Elincia even when it wasn’t really necessary. It made sense that he treated this other royal the same, even if he was an enemy. Royalty were odd that way.

That was why he found himself walking through camp towards the supply area, where they kept such things as medical supplies, run of the mill tools and prisoners.  Ike had learnt not to question the placement. He wouldn’t have got through this war without Titania’s help so he made sure not to question her wisdom.  What he would like to know though, was why there weren’t any guards outside the prisoner’s tent. He knew the interrogator was in there, but that prince was clearly a force to be reckoned with.

He picked up his pace, readying his blade, expecting the prince to have followed Nasir’s example and inexplicably disappeared. Yet as Ike stood outside the tent he could definitely hear shouting from within. There was a cracking sound, like a branch breaking, followed by

“Answer me, whelp! How is it that a filth-born cretin  can hinder our Empress’ chosen army? What vile animal magics you have you used on our army? Answer me. _Answer me!”_

Ike pushed into the tent just in time to see the interrogator raise a long thin rod above his head and strike at the chained prince’s hands, which had been clamped to the table. As the thin wood snapped back upwards it caught the prince on the face, leaving a thin bloodied line on his pale cheek.  Looking down, Ike saw the little prince’s hands were a twitching mess of bleeding gashes. The interrogator must have hit something important for the prince’s hands seemed to spasm of their own will, with every jerk, more blood soaked the table and cruel metal clamp.

Ike stared at the prince’s face, shock turning to disgust and disgust to anger as he saw the young boy barely managing to keep up his blank façade. As the interrogator yelled and brought down the rod again, the prince braced himself yet couldn’t resist giving out a muffled cry at the contact. There was no getting past the fact that this was a child. This man was torturing a child. Ike was about to make his presence known when he noticed a pouch on the table beside the prince’s hands. It was wide open and full of powdery substance. Salt?  Something else ground up? This man was…

“You’ll regret the day you were bred you-“

“ _Stop_.” Ike took hold of the man’s wrist and forced it away from the shaking prince. In his surprise, the Begnion interrogator dropped his rod.

“General Ike!” he squealed, a far cry from the demanding tone he had just been using.

“You were hired to interrogate the prisoner,”  Ike reminded him, keeping hold of the man’s wrist in a punishing grip, “Tell me, what part of that means you could tear his hands to ribbons?”

“He wasn’t responding to verbal communication,” squeaked the interrogator, “I was told he needed to be persuaded by any means necessary. Let me go!”

“Persuaded, not tortured,” Ike replied fiercely, “I don’t know how to works in Begnion, but we don’t torture our prisoners here. How is he supposed to talk if he’s in so much pain he can’t speak?”

The interrogator was having some difficulty himself as Ike didn’t let go of his wrist. He babbled something like an apology and Ike finally released him.

“You’re dismissed for today,” Ike told him, “Titania will have someone report fresh orders for you tomorrow.”

The man bowed and hastily departed, leaving Ike with the young Prince of Daein. Watery red eyes met his own as the prince stared at him. He was very small and thin, when had he last eaten? He needed a healer and a meal. Ike wasn’t experienced in interrogation but he was certain people couldn’t say much if they were slowly dying. The prince didn’t seem to be going anywhere, he was still chained down. Ike unclamped the vice with ease before turning towards the tent flap.

“I’ll be back in a moment with food and someone to look at your hands.”

The prince did and said nothing but he couldn’t exactly move, so Ike left for the necessaries at once.

On the way to the healing tents he met Titania, who asked him why their interrogator had come to her with a bruised wrist and a lot of complaints.  Ike explained the situation to her as he kept an eye out for Rhys or Mist. Thankfully she agreed the interrogator was in the wrong but was somewhat hesitant about providing the prince aid. He was their enemy and he had been responsible for many deaths. She didn’t seem to think, for a reason Ike didn’t catch, that his young age was something to be remarked upon. When Ike pressed the point, she said:

“There are reasons why appearances can be deceptive. We don’t know what this prince is capable of, we don’t want to appear too merciful.”

Ike had ignored her advice once or twice before. She hadn’t seen how the boy prince had been on the edge of tears. Perhaps if they did look after him, he’d think more favourably of them. He had stopped Sothe and Jill holding some of the less desirable Daein beliefs. Perhaps Ike could encourage this young prince to change his mind a little too?  He wasn’t optimistic enough to think he could get the son of the King to change sides but any progress was welcome.

“I think we’re going to make more progress with him if we don’t try to kill him,” he informed Titania, “Starving him counts as that. I haven’t tried talking to him yet, perhaps I need to try.”

She warily approved of his decision, but decided to remind him that their child prisoner had a great tactical mind so could probably deceive him.  The longer they dithered, the longer the prince would be left bleeding out, so Ike freed himself from her cautionary warnings as quickly as possible. He headed towards the medical tent where he found a steady stream of people with buckets of water, large bags of supplies and the occasional heal staff. He found Rhys, looking rather ill, rummaging through a crate which seemed to be full of unlabelled pouches.

“Rhys?”

“Commander,” the priest greeted, “I’m flattered you’ve come to help with the new tents.”

“Actually, I need someone to look at the Prince of Daein,” Ike replied, wondering what was going on with new tents, no one had mentioned them to him.

“He’s had his hands shredded to ribbons by the Begnion interrogator and they’re not looking good at all.”

Rhys looked contemplative. He was a man of the cloth, so perhaps his ability to forgive would overpower any anger he felt at the tactician who had targeted the army’s healers.

“We can’t spare anyone right this moment Commander, however I can give you the necessaries to stay the bleeding for now.”  Rhys began to rummage about in the crate again. He opened a few bags, dropped a few back in. before finally handing three over.

“Antidote should stop any infection, apply after you’ve made sure to wash the wounds first with a clean cloth. Then apply the vulnerary and wrap up in bandages.”

“Thanks, if I have time, I’ll come back and help with the tents.”

“That would be appreciated Commander.” Rhys went back to rummaging through the crate. Ike vaguely wondered what he was looking for as he headed off back through camp.

By the time he returned to the prisoner’s tent however, Rhys’ search was removed from his mind. He had picked up food and water on the way there and now took the seat the interrogator should have occupied if he’d been doing his job and not being cruel. He put the food down in front of the Prince of Daein who looked momentarily shocked, but his blank look soon returned.

“Can I sort out your hands?” Ike asked, putting the necessaries on the table, “Probably best to get it done before the food gets cold.” The prince nodded wordlessly and moved his hands forwards, leaving a bloody trail on the table. They were still twitching and Ike found himself wondering what the interrogator could possibly have done to make them like that. Muscle cramps were one thing but this looked, well, painful. He washed, medicated, and then wrapped up the prince’s hands, noticing that the boy flinched every time they had some sort of contact. He didn’t do so when just the bandages were touching him. Was he using too much pressure in his washing causing the prince pain, or did he not like being touched? Both were also possible.

Once he was done bandaging, he pushed the food towards the prince.

“I’m sorry about the interrogator,” he began, waiting for the prince to eat, “You probably don’t like us anyway, being our prisoner and all, but this wasn’t the footing I wanted to start on. So I apologise. He had no right to hurt you, or call you an animal. He’ll be sent back to his commander shortly.”

The prince said nothing, he didn’t touch his food either, he just stared at Ike with those odd eyes of his.

“Eat up,” Ike prompted, “You look starved. I swear I haven’t done anything to it.”

Still nothing.

“If you don’t want it, I’ll have it.”

The prince reached forward and picked up a bread roll. He cautiously bit into it and chewed slowly. Suddenly he seemed to come to the conclusion that Ike wasn’t trying to poison him, for he wolfed down the bread and meat before him with a eagerness Ike knew even he could never match. He hated to use the interrogator’s own descriptions, but the prince was eating like a starved animal. Considering the number of awkward dinners he’d had to sit through with Elincia, this was not what he expected of a prince.  The fact he could eat with such ferocity and not even choke was remarkable.

“When was the last time you ate?” Ike found himself wondering aloud. The prince swallowed his last mouthful with difficulty.

“Shortly before our battle. However if you are referring to a hot meal, then I received one on the advent of my leaving Daein two months ago.” His voice was cold and far too mature for his appearance. How old was he exactly? That was a question for another time though, the fact he hadn’t eaten since their battle was a more pressing issue.

“No one else in this army has given you food.” Ike stated. He couldn’t believe it. They hadn’t starved Nasir. They hadn't hurt Nasir either. Surely the best way to go about this was to be nice to the enemy prince? It was basic logic that people cooperated more when they were better treated.

The prince nodded in agreement.

“Well, that’s changing,” Ike announced, “As are our camps methods apparently.  We’ve had prisoners before but they weren’t treated like this.”

“I’m honoured.” The Prince of Daein spoke with a very cutting tone. Ike didn’t let this dissuade him; he still had food related inquiries, a topic it seemed the prince was happy to talk about.

“Why haven’t you had a hot meal in two months? Surely as a prince someone would cook you something?”

“You assume being a prince means people want you to continue in good health,” the prisoner retorted. This only raised more questions than it answered. He was implying his own people didn’t want him to eat properly. He was growing stranger by the minute.

“Well you are going to rule their country one day,” Ike reasoned, “They want to keep you alive.”

The prince gave a huff that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“Your kindness in feeding me is appreciated, even though it is just a ploy to win over my favour. It will not lead you to any valuable information.”

Of course the prince would still be cautious.  According to Titania it was hard to get him to talk. Ike had achieved that but he wasn’t foolish enough to think one meal would enough to win over someone so wary.

“I’m not really one for clever ploys,” Ike informed him, “I prefer it when people speak their minds. I gave you food because you needed it. Nothing more.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The expected reaction, Ike thought. What followed after it was not.

“If you wish for information, have this,” the Prince of Daein continued, “The Mad King sent me to the front lines to finally see me killed once and for all. He will not care that I have been taken hostage. He will not have let me know anything of his eventual plans. I am ballistae fodder to him so you might as well give up now.”

“Alright,” Ike got to his feet and shrugged, “I’ll be back later with more food and bandages. Get some sleep if you want.”

Before the prince could say anything more if he wanted to, Ike had strode off and left him there.  He wasn’t being cooperative so Ike would just try again another time. Right now he needed to sit down and gather his thoughts. He had the feeling the prince had just revealed more than he intended to.

Firstly, he clearly had experienced an awful upbringing.  He called his own father the Mad King, which was not only formal but insulting. That was what his enemies called King Ashnard. There was clearly no love between them especially when the prince had said his father wanted him killed ‘once and for all’. That meant there had been other threats upon his life orchestrated by his own father. Perhaps this included starvation considering how eager the prince was for food.

Secondly, despite his tactical prowess, the prince had very few people about him who liked him. He may not have any at all. If he had someone decent near him, looking after him, then why had they not made sure he ate correctly? This couldn’t be a case of not being able to afford or hunt for good food.  He was a prince. He should be attending fussy banquets.  The fact no one would care that he was taken hostage also made sense because of this.

Thirdly and finally, the prince was instinctively scared of everything. Perhaps this was because no one liked him and the fact his father was trying to kill him. Ike had the feeling there was more to the story than met the eye. Titania earlier hadn’t been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and that interrogator had been absolutely foul to him even though he was a child. Titania would usually be sympathetic to innocent children dragged into war but not this one. What was different about this prince?

He explained his discoveries to her the next time they met. She was impressed that he’d managed to get the prince to talk so quickly however she still seemed to be scared of him.

“Just because he’s had an awful lot in life doesn’t mean you should trust him. This has simply proved he will do anything to save his neck.”

“Like joining us?” Ike asked of her.

“I don’t think even you could get our enemy’s prince on our side.”  She sounded very disapproving whenever she considered anything about the Prince of Daein. She didn’t seem to care how old he was or what his life was like, she just didn’t like him no matter what they learnt. Why?

“I reckon I can,” Ike replied, “What he wants is very simple. He wants to eat and he wants have company that doesn’t hate him. If we give him that, perhaps he’ll see it’s better to join us if he wants to survive.”

“He’s not going to get a hate free environment if he joins us,” Titania argued, “Even if we ignored all he’s done against us, everyone is going to hate him because he’s a-“  She cut herself off and bit her lip as if to reprimand herself.

“He’s a what?” Ike demanded.

Titania seemed to struggle for words for a moment. This was most unlike her. What was she calling the Prince of Daein? What could make someone hate him that much that didn’t include his actions during the war? Ike couldn’t think of anything. They hadn’t even heard of the prince before the war began. Was she as angry as the interrogator? Did she think he was an animal too? Yet why would she? The Prince of Daein was a better to have as an ally than an enemy, and if Ike persevered he was sure he could win him over.

“He’s…nothing,” she eventually concluded, “I just think he’s dug his own grave, no amount of redemption will make others like him, especially because he’s from Daein.”

“People said that about Jill,” Ike reminded her, “They said that her racism and the fact she was from Daein meant she would never fit in. Look at her now.”

“Fine, just don’t spend all your time with him.  I still think he’s a lost cause.”

As Ike went to find Rhys again, he thought over all she had said. Her accusations had no truth behind them. Yes he was of Daein, but he hated it there, why wouldn’t he join their side? Why was she so fixated against him?  Her hatred seemed irrational. He was responsible for a lot of their army’s deaths, but as their tactician, Titania was no better than he was. She could be said responsible for the deaths of Daein’s soldiers who were only fighting to protect their country too.  Mad King Ashnard may be evil but that didn’t mean all his soldiers were too, and neither did a man’s son have to follow in his footsteps. The child prince didn’t seem mad at all. So why did Titania have to hate him?

When he returned with more food that evening, he realised no guard had been left outside the prisoner’s tent. Whilst this was something that needed correcting, the prince didn’t seem to have taken his chance. He was sitting on the floor under the table, the furthest his chains would allow him to move.

“Dinner,” Ike called to him. When the prince didn’t move, Ike crouched down and sat on the floor as well. He handed the prince’s meal over to him. Just as before, he ate as if the food would be taken away from him at any moment.

“Calm down,” Ike told him, “You’ll choke or do yourself an injury.”

The prince swallowed heavily.

“I’m surprised you care,” he retorted, picking his bread into smaller pieces and then eating it.

“Well I went to the effort of getting you this food; I didn’t plan for it to kill you.” Ike began to eat his own meal. It was a bit odd to watch someone eat without eating yourself, so he had brought his own food along.

“You don’t have to get it.”

“You don’t have to expect people are going to be horrible to you all the time. Not here anyway.”  Ike sat back as the prince gave him a judging stare.  He wondered what was going through the prince’s mind. He was probably mapping all the ways in which Ike could hurt him or whether or not he had his food poisoned. He chewed thoughtfully on his bread.  Ike waited for his conclusion.

“Generals are supposed to be intimidating and fearsome.” The prince stated.

“Only to the enemy,” Ike replied, “You can lead through a force other than fear. People are more likely to do as you say if they don’t want to run away from you.”

“That is where our countries’ leaders differ then,” the prince commented. He fixed Ike with another one of those piercing stares. Ike found himself wondering what he hoped to see by staring at him so intently. He looked like he trying to look through him.

“Why stay then?” he asked, “Why stay somewhere where you’re ruled by a father who tries to kill you and people are horrible to you there?”

The stare turned into a glare. The prince clearly did not appreciate having such personal matters brought up.

“You clearly don’t understand,” he snapped.

“Then make me,” Ike replied with equal ferocity, refusing to back down.

“Work it out yourself oh mighty general,” the prince retorted, “Discover it in your world of kindness and hot meals. Ask your little mercenary family and shatter your rose-tinted perception of this world!”

“You’re the tactician; it’s your job to explain things to clueless leaders like me.”

The prince said nothing more, he merely glared at Ike as he took his plate away. Like an angry cat, (not a laguz, a house one) he glowered at Ike with those strange eyes of his until Ike was firmly out of the tent. Ike lingered near the door for a moment but couldn’t hear a thing from inside the tent. He assumed the prince was still glowering under the table as he decided to go and give the plates back to Oscar.

The prince was much less talkative from then on. Over the following week, in which the army were deciding how to advance through Crimea, he didn’t speak to Ike at all despite the fact that the general sat with him for every meal. Whenever Ike noticed him staring, he pretended not to be. A few times he looked like he was about to speak but thought better of it.  Ike didn’t press him into breaking his silence. He was evidently shaken since their last conversation which had only proved Ike’s suspicions about him. Kindness, hot meals and a loving family were the three things the prince was most agitated about, however there was something else.  For some unknown reason, the prince thought he didn’t deserve those things. That was why he didn’t run away from his awful life; he didn’t think he was going to get any of them even if he did escape. Whatever this mystery factor was, Ike had the sneaking suspicious it was also something to do with why Titania still didn’t want anything to do with him. Also the interrogator might have known of it too. The simplest thing to do was ask Titania what it was. He did so and she immediately excused herself so she wasn’t giving him any answers. He wanted to ask the prince but he had the feeling that would only wedge him further into his silent space under the table.

So he waited patiently, doing his duties as General and sharing his meals with the prince, until one day he did something out of routine. Titania gave him something to read that he simply could not get his head round. He needed extra time to digest the lists and totals so he took the report to dinner with him, and by dinner, he meant the prisoner’s tent. The prince stared curiously at him as he gave him his food and then sat, scowling at the report. After about ten minutes silence, he asked.

“What are you doing?”

 “Trying to get through Titania’s, my tactician’s, expenditure report,” Ike replied, frowning at the great long list, “However when there’s so many numbers…I try and concentrate and it all sort of swims. I can’t tell where one figure begins and another ends. It’s stupid I know, a general that’s hopeless with numbers.”

“I don’t think so,” the prince replied, “That is just how some people’s heads work. The terror you inspire on the battlefield however is certainly enough to compensate for your not being numerically minded.”

“I’m terrifying?”  Ike was slightly surprised at the prince’s sudden talkativeness.

“Very much so. What do you think the people of Daein feel when they see the leader of the opposing army slicing through their security like butter?”

“Are you scared of me?”

The prince fixed him with a stare and deigned not to answer that question.

 “Would you like me to assist you with your report? I should be able to provide a meaningful yet brief summary of your expenditure.”

Ike hesitated for a moment. This prince was their enemy he probably shouldn’t be handing confidential information over. Still, this was something in the past; this was what they’d already spent. It most likely wouldn’t benefit him at all. Besides, he had made no effort to go home.

“Sure,” Ike passed him the report. The prince took it with both hands by finger and thumb, chains jangling as he raised his arms. Ike watched as his gaze slowly descended down the page. Occasionally his lips moved as if he wanted to say something. Once he seemed to bite upon his lower lip to stop himself speaking.  By the time he reached the bottom he was frowning.

“You’re misspending.”

“What?”

“The Daein army prides itself on its wyvern knights, it also has a great many flying feral laguz. You should be investing more in archery and wind magic. You do have wind mages, yes?”

“We’ve got mages that can use wind magic,” Ike replied, “I’m guessing that’s not the same.”

“Indeed.” The prince fixed the paper with a glare.

“Well, your tactician’s handwriting does nothing to aid you that is for sure. Regardless, you are making a steady profit from this war, which needs investment if you are going to have enough supplies to take on the capital. I recommend, as said before, obtaining a higher standard of air control, in addition to armour for your horses as the Daein army is well-stocked in anti-cavalry weaponry.”

He handed the report back.

“You need a better tactician. Not only is your war strategy straight from a text-book on the Crimean Royal Knights, but a true assistant to a General would notice such things as your efforts struggling with numbers and therefore give you more concise reports.” After his rather dry summary he went back to picking his food into smaller pieces.

“Are you offering?”

For the first time Ike saw something like shock on the prince’s face. It faded quickly as he demanded.

“Why would I want to join you?”

“Well,” Ike began, “You could leave Daein behind completely. Even after the war, you’d be free. You’d get a chance at being in the Greil Mercenaries if you wanted it. I don’t give two figs where you came from.  If you get along with the rest of us and you’re good at what you do, you can be one of us. We defend what’s ours and everyone pulls their own weight. You wouldn’t have to even think of your family anymore.”

Shock again, followed by suspicion and disbelief.

“You’re oblivious,” stated the prince. He didn’t sound angry. Quite the reverse, he sounded a little awed.

“If I am you’re going to have to explain what I’m oblivious to,” Ike pointed out.

“I don’t want to.”  He took hold of his plate and clutched it tight in his still-bandaged hands.

“Why not?” Ike wondered if he was hitting gold here. His description of what the prince could become seemed to have shaken him to the core. Was the prince about to reveal what was turning everyone against him, even himself?

“Because…because this won’t happen anymore.” The Prince of Daein sounded uncertain. He was wavering, where had that anger gone?

“What won’t happen?” Ike pressed.

“This!” The prince exclaimed, “You giving me food, keeping me company, being so inconceivably and ridiculously nice! This should not be. This does not happen and I did not expect anything like this when you captured me. I thought you were going to let that man whip me to death. It wouldn’t be the first time anyone had tried.”

He was being talkative. Now was Ike’s chance.

“But why?”

“Guess!” The prince retorted in frustration.

“I can’t because I don’t know the answer,” Ike retorted, “You’re going to have to tell me.”

“I can’t say it! No one can.”

“You’re going to have to!” Ike raised his voice to match the prince’s volume, though his were exasperated demands rather than frustrated cries.

“And ruin everything? Ruin being safe, fed and the closest thing to…to…”

“Being happy?” Ike filled in, “That’s why you have to tell me. I don’t care who you are, I don’t want to kill you, I want you to be healthy!”

“Then you’re stupid!”

“And you’re stubborn!”

“At least I’m not an imbecile!”

“Well I’m not destroying myself!”

There was a moment in which they both drew breath and then:

 “I’m a Branded you insufferable selfless oaf!”

There was a moment of silence in which Ike simply stared at the now-wary prince.  Branded? He had never heard of term though it probably had something to with that weird mark upon the prince’s forehead. He knew what to brand something meant and no sensible person, no matter how evil, would do that to a child’s head surely? He thought back but couldn’t think of a time when anyone, be they Titania or his father, had mentioned a Branded. No one had ever…

“What’s a Branded?” he asked when he was inevitably stumped.

The prince’s eyes grew even wider.  Ike knew he had confirmed his own stupidity but he needed to know to understand all this abuse surrounding the prince. This must be what Titania had been refusing to tell him, and the interrogator…

“Is that why the interrogator called you all those horrid things?”

The prince nodded. He seemed steel himself before sitting up straighter.

“A Branded is…is the abomination born when a beorc and a laguz inter-breed,” the prince explained, “Such acts defy all teachings of the Goddess and thus any and all Branded children are animals unfit for life upon this earth. If we are not exterminated at once we are confined to grim lives of servitude or an existence spent running from the world’s hatred.”

“So your mother was a laguz,” said Ike, he did understand the first part but he wasn’t quite sure about the last bit.

The prince nodded.

“A Goldoan Princess. She’s as mad as the King, they make insanity seem fashionable together.” The disdain in his voice was impossible to miss. Ike realised he was right in thinking the prince looked a lot like the Goldoan prince they saw on the coast. That must have been this prince’s uncle. That cleared up, Ike still had one more question.

“So why does that mean people should hate you? You’ve got one beorc parent and one laguz one why does that make a difference?”

Though many idiots thought otherwise, Ike knew beorc and laguz were in fact equal, so one person of each type having a child shouldn’t be any problem at all. Perhaps it was understandable from someone from Begnion, but Titania would never share an opinion promoting beorc-laguz inequality. Neither would she blame a child for what their parents did. Yet this must be why people hated the prince. It was clearly why he hated himself. Just looking at him, seemingly struck dumb by Ike’s question, it seemed like he was struggling to think of why Ike didn’t hate him in light of this revelation.

“Because we are abominations,” the little prince replied, his voice weakening, “Ungodly, unlovable, and animalistic. The goddess decreed-“

Ike interrupted him.

“The goddess apparently says laguz are unintelligent beasts and we know that’s rubbish.  The only reason any person is animalistic is because they’ve been driven to that in desperation. As for abominations, you look like a person to me. You’ve got intelligence, talent…why should anyone care that you’ve got a mark on your head?  I don’t. No one with a reasonable mind should.”

“This isn’t some horrid joke is it?” Ah, so that’s where the insecurity lay, Ike thought. Had someone tricked him before, did he think this was another attempt to destroy him?

“No, not a joke.  You can call me stupid but I don’t see any way that having mixed parentage could make me damn a person. As I said before, I don’t care about your background. I’m more concerned about the well-being of the person I’ve been eating with for the last week.”

There was a moment of silence in which the Prince of Daein seemed to try and collect himself. Ike let him think without interruption this time. He said all that had needed to be. Any more could be considered bullying and the prince did not need to be subjected to any more of that. So Ike simply waited for the prince to think through everything he had said. Having someone contradict what you believed in was always a weighty task to sort through.

The tent was as quiet as the supply area could afford it to be. Ike thought he heard a horse pass by and a shout from somewhere else in the camp. However he did not avert his gaze from the prince. He waited and watched for a reaction.

“General Ike?” The prince finally broke the moment of silence. Despite his hesitance, it was the first time the prince had ever called Ike by name.  He sounded very nervous, his voice fitting his appearance much better.

“General Ike,” the prince tried again, “Are you by any chance recruiting?”

“Yeah, I think we might just be looking for someone with exactly your talents," Ike replied, " Welcome to the Greil Mercenaries –“  He paused for a name.

“Soren,” filled in the now ex-prince, “Soren, Master Tactician.”

“Welcome to the group Soren,” Ike offered him his hand. Soren took it and clasped it tightly as if afraid to let go.

“Thank you Ike. I promise to always remain at your side.”


End file.
